


trading spaces

by alotofthingsdifferent



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Polyamory, mix and match, they're a modern family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-12 23:17:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18456653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alotofthingsdifferent/pseuds/alotofthingsdifferent
Summary: Emily and Hanna trade spaces.





	trading spaces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Timjan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timjan/gifts).



Hanna doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of watching the sun sink heavily into the horizon, reflecting in pink and red and orange on the surface of the California sea. She wraps her arms around her shins, digging her toes into the sand and laughing at Lucca galloping after Leo, their paws splashing in the surf. Tommy and Jon are standing a few feet away, tossing a tennis ball for the dogs, and Emily’s stretched out next to her, her legs crossed at the ankles. 

Tommy turns over his shoulder and smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and the way he looks at her still makes her stomach swoop, even after all this time. Later, they’ll all head back to Jon and Emily’s and squeeze together on the couch, sipping wine and giggling about nothing in particular, and Hanna will wonder, not for the first time, how she got so damn lucky.

She’ll close her eyes and lean in to Tommy, her cheek resting against his shoulder and Emily’s feet tucked under her thighs, and doze off. 

It’ll be just like any other night, and tomorrow, they’ll wake up and do it all over again.

*

The birds are chirping when Hanna opens her eyes. She was a little worried she might wake up with a wine headache, but she feels blissfully clear-headed this morning despite not remembering much from the night before beyond drinking several glasses of red.  
When she rolls onto her side, she’s greeted by the long, naked slope of Tommy’s back, the sheets pooled at his waist and one arm tucked up under his pillow. She watches him for a minute, the way his shoulders gently rise and fall with each breath he takes, and it’s only then that she notices that something’s off.

The freckles that mark Tommy’s back -- the ones Hanna’s mapped with her mouth countless times -- are missing, and his skin, usually pale or kissed pink by the sun, is golden-bronze. She takes a deep breath and forces herself to shift her gaze from his back to his neck, then higher, and that’s not Tommy’s blond hair, that’s --

Hanna flops onto her back, squeezing her eyes closed and telling herself she must be dreaming. She thinks back to the night before, sandwiched between Tommy and Emily on the couch, Jon on Emily’s other side and the dogs at their feet. She remembers Emily and Jon making out while Tommy complained half-heartedly that they weren’t paying him enough attention. She remembers giggling when Jon snaked his hand behind Emily’s back to tickle Hanna’s side, squirming helplessly, a little breathless. She remembers all four of them falling into a comfortable silence, and she remembers falling asleep against Tommy’s shoulder. 

Jon chooses that moment to stir, and Hanna, in a panic -- what did they _do_ last night? She swears she went to bed with Tommy, but she also _knows_ that she’s naked under the sheets, and she feels...sore, kind of, and a little wet between her legs, in a way that’s always a sure indication that she had great sex the night before -- closes her eyes and pretends to be asleep.

Jon snuffles into his pillow, the mattress shifting when he rolls into his back, stretching. Hanna lies perfectly still, trying to keep her breathing even, and she jumps a little when she feels Jon’s hand slide over her belly, warm against her skin. He scoots closer, and she sucks in a breath when he nuzzles her neck, his lips brushing her ear in a way that makes goosebumps chase up and down her arms. “Mmm,” he hums into her neck, his hand on her belly drifting a little lower. “Morning, baby.”  


“Jon?” Hanna says, surprised that her voice comes out as even as it does.

She feels him smile into her neck. “Were you expecting someone else?” he asks. “Eight years together and you’ve forgotten me that easily?”

 _Eight years together_. The words reverberate in Hanna’s brain, and she turns her head away from Jon, her eyes catching on the picture in a frame on the bedside table.

It’s _them_. It’s them, Hanna and _Jon_ , a goldendoodle at their feet, and Hanna’s in a _wedding dress_ , Jon pressing a kiss to her temple.

 _I’m dreaming_ , Hanna thinks, her heart racing. That’s the only logical explanation for why she’s waking up married to — to — to her husband’s _best friend._. To her _best friend’s_ husband.

“Han?” Jon asks, a hint of concern in his voice. He props himself up on one elbow, looking down at her with a slight frown. “You okay?”

He’s hard against her hip, and she squeezes her legs together, shocked by this sudden burst of arousal. It’s followed by a wave of guilt, but she lets her eyes flutter closed when Jon tucks a piece of her hair behind her ear.

“I’m fine,” she says, forcing herself to smile. She clears her throat, then opens her eyes to look at him. “Did—are Tommy and Em still here?”

It’s a shot in the dark, really, to put Tommy’s name with Emily’s, to put them _together,_ but it’s the only way for Hanna to get an answer to the question buzzing in her brain.

Jon smiles at her fondly, touching his lips to her cheek. “How much wine did you have, babe? They left last night. Emily had an early meeting and Tommy still had some pod prep to work on.”

And that’s the confirmation Hanna needs to convince herself this is a dream. A weird sex dream about her husband’s best friend, but a dream nonetheless.

“I have a couple hours before I have to be in the office,” Jon tells her, his fingertips featherlight on her bare hip. He ducks in, kissing the underside of her jaw and whispering, “and you look so fucking beautiful right now.”

She closes her eyes again, letting her thighs fall open without a second thought. It’s just a dream, after all, and when she wakes up, Tommy will benefit from it too. “Yeah,” she breathes, and Jon kisses her as he slips two fingers inside her.

*

Emily could get used to waking up like this. She doesn’t even open her eyes, she just smiles to herself, rolls her hips a little, and arches her back. Jon’s grip on her thighs tightens, and he spreads her legs further apart. She threads her fingers through his hair and tugs a little, and he makes and encouraging sound, sucking lightly on her clit. When he works his tongue inside, she opens her eyes; she loves seeing him like this, grinning up at her from between his legs, but it only takes her a second to realize that it’s _not Jon_ going down on her, it’s --

She cries out, half in surprise and half from whatever Tommy just did with is tongue, but instead of making him stop, the sound seems to encourage Tommy even more. She’s so close to the edge already that as soon as he scrapes his teeth over her clit, she comes, her whole body shaking with it. Tommy peppers kisses to her thighs, her belly, the underside of her breast as he makes his way up her body, and when he kisses her, she can taste herself on his tongue.

“Good morning,” he says against her mouth, and she whimpers a little, shocked and more than a little confused.

“Tommy,” she says, a little breathless, and he grins, kissing the corner of her mouth.

“I know you have an early meeting, so I thought I’d get your day off to a good start,” he says, mouthing at her collarbone. It’s distracting, she can’t _think_ , and she fumbles for her phone on the bedside table. When she opens it, the first thing she notices is her background photo.

What used to be a picture of her and Jon is now one of her and Tommy on the beach, Tommy holding her in a bridal carry, her arms looped around his neck. 

“Babe?” Tommy asks, looking down at her. She blinks away from her phone and meets his eyes. “You good?”

“Yeah, sorry, just—checking my messages. For the meeting.”

He’s watching her carefully, like he’s worried, and she touches the side of his face, smiling softly. “I’m fine. Don’t look so worried.”

She’s not fine. She’s freaking the fuck out, actually. But she lets Tommy kiss her and watches him disappear into the bathroom, and then she starts googling.

 _Emily Black Favreau_ doesn’t exist, but _Emily Black Vietor_ pops right up, complete with an image of Emily in a wedding dress, standing next to a beaming Tommy.  


Emily covers her mouth with one hand and drops her phone.

*

Hanna rolls onto her side, pulling the covers tightly around her body. She tries (and fails) not to watch Jon as he strides to the bathroom, tossing her a smile and a wink over his shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom. She rubs her thighs together and shivers a little, still sensitive from the orgasm Jon had wrung out of her. She stares at the photo on the nightstand, at the way she and Jon are grinning at the camera, exuding happiness. It makes her ache for Tommy suddenly, a fresh wave of guilt coming over her at how easily she’d given herself over to Jon earlier. 

She loves Jon, of _course_ she does. They practically live out of one another’s pockets, the four of them, spending nearly every weekend together and most nights of the week, too, happy hours and dinners and late-night binges of their favorite TV shows. And okay, maybe that explains why it was so easy for her to just -- close her eyes and let Jon kiss her, and touch her, and --

She can’t finish the thought, because her phone is buzzing on the nightstand, Emily’s name lighting up the screen.

*

Emily’s hands are shaking a bit as she holds the phone up to her ear, listening to it ring and waiting for Hanna to pick up. Her stomach is in knots, and she keeps glancing at the closed bathroom door, afraid Tommy’s going to finish with his shower before she can finish her phone call. 

And then --

*

“Em?”

*

“Hanna?”

*

_”Em.”_

*

Hanna watches Emily across the small table they’d chosen near the back of Starbucks, out of the way of -- well, Hanna’s not really sure, but hiding seemed like a good idea at the time. Emily’s hair is pulled up into a loose bun on the top of her head, and her glasses are perched perfectly on the bridge of her nose. She sips her coffee and looks at Hanna, smiling a little over the brim of her mug. 

“So,” Emily says, drawing out the “o” sound. “This is...weird, huh?”

Hanna laughs, pulling her hands up into the sleeves of the hoodie she’d pulled from Jon’s closet and wrapping her arms around her body. “That’s one word for it.” 

It had only taken a few minutes on the phone earlier for them to realize that they were sharing this experience -- that Emily remembered the same things Hanna remembered, that Jon was _Emily’s_ husband, and Tommy Hanna’s. Nothing else, though, seemed any different. They hadn’t traded jobs, and Crooked Media still existed. Emily had pictures in her phone of Lovett and Ronan, and a scroll through their texts revealed messages between all of them. 

Everything seemed completely normal. 

Except, of course, for the fact that they’d switched husbands overnight.

“Do you know --” Emily starts, just as Hanna’s saying “Did Tommy say--”

They both laugh, and Hanna relaxes a bit, reminding herself that this is just Emily sitting across from her. Her best friend, the person who knows her better than anyone, even Tommy. 

“You first,” Hanna says, watching as Emily takes another sip of coffee and tucks a stray hair behind her ear. 

“When I told Tommy I was meeting you,” Emily says, “he got this -- _look_ on his face. Like -- I don’t know, you know that look Tommy gets when he’s in on a secret.” Hanna nods, because she knows it well. Tommy thinks he has a great poker face, but the flush on his cheeks and that devilish smirk give him away every time. “And he said, _Just hold off on the good stuff until tonight._ ”

“Tonight,” Hanna repeats, and Emily nods, shifting in her seat. “That’s -- Jon mentioned tonight too.” That’s putting it lightly, Hanna knows. She leaving out the part where Jon pulled her close, nosed at her temple and whispered, “Tell Em I say hi and I can’t wait for tonight,” before kissing her soundly and sending her on her way.

(She wonders if Tommy did the same to Emily, and her mind wanders for a minute, imagining Emily in Tommy’s arms, tilting her head up to meet his lips in a kiss. It doesn’t make her feel the way she thought it would, and she pushes the thought down, tucking it away for now.)

“Have you, um. Have you looked at any of the texts?” Emily asks, and Hanna shakes her head. She’d been tempted, as she sat at the table waiting for Emily to arrive, but they’d agreed to look together, so she’d shoved her phone in her purse and tried not to think about it. “Should we --”

“I slept with Jon,” Hanna blurts, before she can stop herself. It’s been eating at her since Emily walked in the door -- since she heard Emily’s voice on the phone this morning, really -- and she doesn’t feel like she can move on and figure any of this out until Emily knows what happened. “I’m sorry, Em, I’m so sorry, it just --”

“I woke up to Tommy going down on me,” Emily interrupts, her cheeks coloring. “So, I mean. I guess we’re even?” 

Hanna blinks, her own face heating. Not from anger, she realizes, or embarrassment, even. “Oh,” she says softly, meeting Emily’s gaze. “That’s -- uh.” The corner of Emily’s mouth twitches, like she’s trying really hard not to smile. It makes Hanna break out into a slow grin of her own, and she leans forward a little bit, closer to Emily. “That’s kinda hot, actually.”

Hanna shouldn’t be surprised. The four of them -- well, they’ve always been closer than people probably thought was normal. It wasn’t unusual for Emily to be sitting on Tommy’s lap or for Hanna to be curled up against Jon’s side. Hanna loved laying on the couch with her head in Jon’s lap because Jon was so good at carding his fingers through her hair; Emily was great with her hands, and if Hanna had a dime for every time she walked in on Emily straddling Tommy’s hips and giving him a massage, she’d have enough for a new designer bag. 

“Yeah?” Emily asks, only a hint of shyness in her voice, and when Hanna nods, Emily ducks her head and smiles. “Wanna look at the texts?” 

Hanna grins and pulls out her phone.

*

Hanna’s curled up against Jon, her head in his lap and his fingers carding through her hair, stopping every now and then to massage the base of her skull. She hums happily, opening her eyes when she hears the sound of kissing above her. 

“Do I get a turn?” she asks, giggling at the sound Tommy makes from where he’s pressed up against Jon’s other side, Emily in his lap as she kisses Jon. 

“Be my guest,” Jon says against Emily’s mouth, and Hanna sits up a little, tilting her head up for Emily to kiss her. Emily’s lips are soft and warm, her fingers light on Hanna’s jaw. Jon’s hand is hot through Hanna’s thin tank top where it’s resting on her lower back, and Tommy’s watching them with dark eyes.

Later, they’ll all end up in Jon and Hanna’s bed, confessing long-hidden feelings between sweet, desperate kisses. Hanna will watch the way Tommy gets Emily off with his mouth, and Emily will kiss Hanna while Jon fucks her, swallowing the moans Hanna makes when Jon brings her to orgasm. She’ll fall asleep curled against Jon’s side, Emily tucked in close behind her, Tommy’s arm draped over both of them, his fingers tangled with Jon’s where they rest on Hanna’s hip.

And she’ll realize that she wouldn’t want it any other way.

*

When she wakes up the next morning, the first thing Hanna notices is that Emily isn’t there. Neither is Jon, and she’s in her own bed, her _real_ bed, the bed she shares with Tommy. Tommy, who’s asleep next to her, his arms tucked up under his pillow and his mouth open a bit, snoring lightly. 

She presses her body close to his, slipping her fingers into his hair to scratch lightly at his scalp. It’s her favorite way to wake him up -- she love the way his eyelids flutter and his nose scrunches as his body is drawn from its sleep. 

“Hey,” she whispers, when he finally opens his eyes, and when he smiles, her heart skips a few beats. She kisses him softly, tracing her nails down the bumps of his spine. She thinks about the night before, in a universe that was only different from this one in a single way. She thinks about the way Jon had looked at her, at the way he’d looked at _Tommy_. She remembers Emily’s lips on hers and Tommy on his knees between Emily’s legs. 

Why shouldn’t they have it all, she wonders? 

She kisses Tommy again, and then once more, and props herself up on one elbow. “So,” she says with a grin, feeling a little nervous, a little giddy, and a lot hopeful. “I’ve been thinking.”


End file.
